


I'll Stay Right Here

by Fumm95



Series: Dragon Age Drabbles [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Also technically Dorian and Cassandra and Varric, Angst, Character Death, F/M, In which Cassandra can't write letters, Injury, So Cullen is worried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-22 22:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3746398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fumm95/pseuds/Fumm95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen receives some bad news from the Inquisitor's party and races to check on her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'll Stay Right Here

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Girl_Chama. Based on yet another calming prompt. This one was "I’ll stay right here, okay?“ It was meant to be more hurt/comfort than it turned out to be, oops.
> 
> Originally posted on tumblr.

Cullen jumped off of his horse as soon as the tents marking the Inquisitor’s party came into view, wincing slightly as muscles protested the half-day of hard riding. Hardly pausing to shove the reins at the soldier accompanying him, he rushed towards the center of the camp, the letter their spymistress had shoved into his face that morning still ringing in his mind:

_Leliana,_

_We got jumped by red templars not far from Skyhold while on our way back. Evelyn foolishly jumped in front of a blow for Dorian. She lost a lot of blood. Send aid._

_-Cassandra_

In spite of reassurances from an agent that everything had been stabilized, his brain could only conjure up images of her broken form, had been haunting him with her death ever since he read the missive.

To his surprise, Varric and Cassandra lingered around the campfire in a surprisingly amiable silence and he skidded a stop when the woman looked up at him.

“Commander, we didn’t think to expect you so soon.”

“Where is Evelyn?” he asked, voice tight with the tension that had been building ever since morning.

“Calm down, Curly,” Varric drawled, an amused note in his voice. “She woke up a few hours ago and she’ll be fine with some rest. Sparkler’s tending to her now in there, if you want to bring him fresh bandages.”

The dwarf’s low chuckle followed him as he hurried towards the indicated tent with a hastily muttered “thank you.” His racing heart slowed somewhat as he heard the murmur of low voices inside, the chime of her laugh, weaker than usual, but still audible.

He burst into the tent with enough force that Evelyn shrieked in surprise and Dorian spun around, a hand outstretched as if to ward him off. Barely noticing the disapproving look on the other man’s face, he moved towards makeshift bed, eyes taking in the familiar form sitting atop the blankets, noting the ragged cloth wrapped around her torso, drinking in her image.  _Alive._

“Blessed Andraste, you’re here.” His voice, when he found it, was hoarse, quiet, but grew louder as he rambled. “Are you in pain? Should you be sitting up? Do you need anything?”

His jaw snapped shut when she held up a hand to arrest the sudden flood of questions, laughing quietly. Maker, he’d missed that sound, thought for several long hours that he’d never hear it again. He took a deep breath and released it slowly, feeling the rest of the tension leave him. She would be okay. “Never scare me like that again.”  _Don’t leave me._

Her smile was warm and full of everything they both left unsaid, but her voice was light, teasing, as she responded with a wry gesture towards her injured chest, “I’ll stay right here, okay?”


	2. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen learns why one should not grow lax about rushing to check on injured loved ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a conversation with KC_Evans, and her request for an angsty follow-up to I’ll Stay Right Here. Because I haven’t written enough angst recently, it seems.

Maker preserve them, someone  _really_  had to teach Cassandra how to write better letters.

Cullen skimmed the message she had sent, much the same vein as the last four she had sent in the past few months, all requesting him to “come quickly” in response to Evelyn’s latest act of foolish self-sacrifice for her traveling companions. He said as much to Leliana as he handed the scroll back to her before strolling off to call for his horse, turning before he could see the worried look the spymistress wore.

After the first three mad dashes across Thedas, he had learned that hard riding for long periods of time, especially when accustomed to being cooped up in Skyhold, made muscles already sore from lyrium withdrawal nearly unbearable, and that whatever skills Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast had in fighting, they did not carry over into her ability to convey appropriately detailed information through writing.

Still, he gathered the pack that he had prepared to minimize time spent waiting, and rushed to the stables. If nothing else, it was an opportunity to see her again, to confirm her wellness with his own eyes.

Several of his men were already waiting for him, and they headed out immediately for Emprise du Lion, towards the camp mentioned in the missive. They set out at a reasonable pace, and the small group was in high spirits when they arrived in Sahrnia on the fourth day of travel.

The smile on his face dropped off immediately at the sober expressions on the faces of everyone who passed them, at the quiet, sorrowful murmurs following them. Questions on the location of the Herald and her party were answered vaguely, if at all, and his worry began to shift to frustration when he spotted Cassandra racing towards them.

“Where have you been?” she demanded, her voice tight with suppressed emotion. Before he could respond, she looked at him, and his heart stopped at the bleak expression in her eyes. “She was calling for you a few hours ago, and Dorian sent me out to look for you, said you ought to be here-”

“Cassandra.” His tone was firm even as his blood froze. She never rambled, and never looked so desperate.

“Cullen, it’s bad. She-” The woman cut off when the camp into view and they spotted both Dorian and Varric waiting for their arrival. “Dorian?” she asked hesitantly.

In the long silence, Cullen struggled to draw a breath into his suddenly tight chest. Maker, please, no. Not that. Anything but that. But the tears on the mage’s face, the helpless look he exchanged with Varric, was confirmation enough, and he closed his eyes as the man whispered, “She’s gone.”


End file.
